


Those Orphans of War

by ExaltedBrand



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crushes, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kissing, Making Out, Neck Kissing, Nipple Play, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Regret, Romance, Slow Burn, Tender Sex, Vaginal Fingering, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExaltedBrand/pseuds/ExaltedBrand
Summary: As the fighting at Grannvale ceases and the last Holy War of Jugdral finally draws to an end, Patty finds an unexpected survivor while scouring the aftermath.
Relationships: Patty/Ishtar
Comments: 16
Kudos: 23





	1. A Flash of Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing suggestion from Cormilla

Oh, Grannvale. Poor Grannvale. It was meant to be such a beautiful country. From Chalphy to Velthomer, it had once held such sights in abundance: wind-brushed grass and flowers in vivid shades, little villages that stretched out into fields of rolling wheat, and rows of mountains carving up the land into deep valleys and winding roads. And the smells – the smells had been even more wonderful. The sweet pine sap of its forests had mixed with the perfume of its flowers, and the rain, whenever it fell, had drawn out the essence of the earth. The sea wind, blowing in from both the north and south, was tinged with salt, hinting at the deep blue oceans beyond and the impossible vastness of the horizon.

It was also a place that had taken on more significance to Patty in recent months than she’d ever thought possible. Grannvale, she’d learned, was her lost mother’s ancestral home. By blood, she and her brother Febail were nobility of the duchy of Yngvi; and by birthright, without anyone left to take their place, they were its rulers.

She’d never been one to want for much. She stole, but only to keep the orphans under her care back in Conote fed. She haggled, but only to get the best prices for what she sold, to send as much money as possible back to the orphanage. Looking out for those kids, she thought, was already enough for her. An entire duchy to look after—its towns, its people, its politics—seemed excessive.

Febail, for his part, had stepped up to the challenge, pledging to work with Lord Seliph of Chalphy to bring the two duchies back into an alliance. And Patty was proud of him for that. Neither of them knew the first thing about ruling, but Yngvi’s people were divided and struggling. They’d needed someone to guide them, someone to take responsibility; and Febail had offered himself up, shouldering their burdens and helping them heal.

He’d make a decent ruler, for sure. Rough around the edges, but down to earth and honest. The sort of man people liked. Their mother—whether she was still out there or watching over them in death—would’ve been proud, too.

Though as far as Patty could see, there was hardly anything left of Grannvale to rule over.

The fighting had stopped only hours ago, and the war was over – but its final battle had been fought across the entire country, shattering its beauty in the process. The old land had been uprooted by something new and ugly, and the fields of flowers had been swept away into fields of red mud and broken bodies. There were bodies sliced apart by swords; bodies driven through by spears; bodies split by axes; bodies burned to cinders by magic; bodies of the young, the old, the guilty, the innocent. The early sun brushed against the mountains, but the light didn’t reach the land below, masking the bloodstains in darkness and turning the corpses to shapeless rocks.

There was nothing left for Patty here. Prince Shannan had returned to Isaach to prepare for his coronation, while her brother was occupied with Yngvi. The rest of the liberation army had either returned home or retired to the far edges of Grannvale, where the grass still grew and the flowers bloomed in patches. There, they could forget all about the war for a few precious moments.

In time, nature might have worked its course from those edges, spreading life where life had been lost. But for the lucky few who had survived the war, it would have been impossible to ignore the differences between the old and the new. A chapel that burned to the ground would never be rebuilt in perfect imitation of its former self. Fire left marks, scars; warped and twisted the very foundation stones that had once held the building up.

So why? Why had she stuck around?

Once, she might have seen the aftermath of a battle as fair game: a few pieces of gold and silver that wouldn’t be missed, some valuable supplies she could have turned in for a profit. Whatever she found belonged to her, and whatever belonged to her belonged to the orphans relying on her. Money paid for food; food kept them alive. A simple transaction even a thief could respect.

But today, Patty didn’t want to be a vulture. It was hard enough to look at what was left of Grannvale without feeling sick to her stomach, let alone imagining herself picking it clean.

Duty. That was why she’d stayed. Her brother was ready to play his part, but that didn’t mean she had to leave everything to him.

War didn’t just make orphans of children. Sometimes, it abandoned its soldiers, too. Prince Shannan had once told Patty that the hours after a battle were sometimes deadlier than a battle itself. Only the most precise blade killed instantly. The rest—the unlucky ones, he’d said—could only lie there in the mud, forgotten and alone and afraid, as they waited for their injuries to carry them away.

Patty wasn’t expecting miracles. She wasn’t expecting to find a whole group of soldiers still alive, still clinging on.

But if she could save even one person—just one—then she would have done her duty – for her duchy, and for her family.

Her steps were cautious. Her eyes scanned every row of bodies, every ruin. Sometimes, she thought she saw someone move, but then she’d approach to see their chests pierced through, or their faces disfigured by flames. Worse, though, were the ones who’d died with only minor injuries. If someone had been there to help, if she’d arrived a few hours earlier… they might have lived.

Oh, it was all so pointless. So horrible. No-one had held anything back, and with so much blood already shed across two wars, neither side had been willing to let up. This was the result.

There was a terrible moment of realisation; a sharp pain in her heart. No-one could have survived a battle like this. No-one.

Then, just so Naga could prove her wrong, Patty saw a flash of silver shift between the red.

* * *

Patty had set up her tent on the edge of Grannvale, nestled high up on a ridge overlooking Friege. From her campfire, she could see the surrounding land: the outlines of the mountains catching the sun through the smoke, the charred forests, and the rise and fall of hills swollen with bodies.

She had everything she needed to strike out on her own for a while. She knew how to hunt, and she knew how to forage.

She wasn’t on her own, though. Parting the flaps of her tent, she looked towards her bed and studied the woman sleeping there, wrapped up all warm and snug in Patty’s blankets and dressed from head to toe in Patty’s bandages.

When it came to the few things she owned entirely for herself, Patty wasn’t the most open to sharing. But in times like these, she could afford an exception or two.

At any rate, it’d been hell on her arms to drag the woman all the way up here; to pull her away from the battlefield, so close to death, and to treat her wounds as she slept, applying the proper ointments and medicines just to make sure she’d live. A bed and some blankets weren’t too much more to ask.

Patty recognised her, of course. Anyone in the liberation army would have recognised her. Some of them, depending on how familiar they were, would have drawn their weapons, too.

Lady Ishtar of House Friege. The so-called ‘goddess of thunder’, and a fearsome mage who’d fought to repel the liberation army to the bitter end. As far as Patty and her allies had known, Ishtar had fallen in battle – died, lost and forgotten, in the fields of Grannvale.

And yet, here she was.

Patty couldn’t begin to imagine how she’d survived. Her wounds had come from a sword and a lance: deep punctures to her stomach and a long, jagged cut that ran along her side. It should have killed her. It was a fluke that Patty had found her at all, and if it hadn’t been for the light colour of her hair moving slightly in the darkness…

Well – she was lucky to be alive. That was the extent of it, really.

Ishtar was dangerous. Patty knew that much for a fact; even trembled, just a little, at the sight of her resting so close by. Her lightning magic had torn through entire squadrons of soldiers, and had blasted horse and rider alike into little more than bloody mounds. Had the thief not been so quick on her feet, she might have lost her life to it, too.

It was always a bad idea to wake up an enemy. Better to cut their throats in the night than risk a drawn-out battle.

But Ishtar wasn’t her enemy – was she? She’d fallen. She’d been on the losing side of a war that destroyed her family, her liege, her home. She was a victim of this war, too; a victim as much as anyone else. An orphan in her adult years.

Patty couldn’t help but feel for her.

It didn’t look like she was going to wake for a while yet, anyway. Patty turned her attention back to the fire, warming up an iron pot for dinner.

* * *

The day passed quickly. Once the sun began to set, casting an orange light over the camp, Ishtar stirred.

It had been a soft sound. Patty, dozing around the campfire, had almost missed it; almost mistaken the rustle of sheets for her tent’s canvas in the wind. But then she heard it again, and her eyes opened slowly. She got to her feet, and peered into her tent to see Ishtar’s head moving against the pillow, her face pale and weary. She walked inside, crouching beside the bed, and Ishtar’s eyes opened slowly.

“Hey,” Patty said. She spoke as softly as she could – the same tone she used at the orphanage whenever one of the kids had woken from a bad dream. “Don’t go tryin’ to move too much just yet. You’ll hurt yourself.”

Ishtar’s head turned slightly, and her gaze met Patty’s.

“Who are you…?” she manged. “Where…?”

“Name’s Patty. We’ve, er… we’ve met before. Though I know war kinda blends together, so… don’t worry if you don’t remember me.”

She looked over her shoulder, casting a glance over the grey, rocky landscape outside.

“As for ‘where’,” she continued, “a tent north of Friege. Few miles from the coast between here and Silesse.”

“Friege…” Ishtar’s voice was a low murmur on her lips – then it burned with a sudden, horrified urgency. “Friege…!”

She pushed herself up, trying to scramble out of the covers, but Patty kept a firm hand on her shoulder, pressing her back down.

“Hey, hey, hey! Weren’t you listenin’ to a word I said…?! You’ve gotta lie still…! You’re in no state to—”

“I have to get back…!” Ishtar cried. “The liberation army – Lord Julius…! The battle…!”

“The war’s over, Lady Ishtar. It’s done.”

The fact should have been cause for happiness, but Patty found her tone slipping into sad sympathy.

Ishtar looked at her, and her blue irises seemed to glisten for a moment. Then, realisation grew on her face, and she collapsed back into the bed, closing her eyes.

“I see,” she whispered. “So that’s how it is…”

Tears welled at the corners of her lashes, and her face was a mask of grief and pain – but somehow, she held it in.

“You nearly died,” Patty said. Her hand, still on Ishtar’s shoulder, gave it a gentle, comforting squeeze. “Had I been a few hours late… well, you might’ve been a goner. If I’m bein’ honest, milady, I was amazed you were still alive…”

Ishtar swallowed. “I wanted… to hang on,” she managed. “For Lord Julius’s sake… I wanted to see his victory to the end. But…”

Finally, she broke down into sobs. Patty wrapped an arm around her, pulling her in and holding her close. It felt strange, it felt awkward – but there was no reason to think of Ishtar as an ‘enemy’ anymore. The war was over, and it was time to move on. There was no longer a place for hatred and spite.

“I lost,” Ishtar said, in choked gasps. “I failed…! Lord Julius is – I-I couldn’t…!”

“Hey, hey,” Patty said. “It’s okay. You don’t need to go thinkin’ about all that now. You just… take your time. We’re all survivors, you know? You, me, the whole lot of us left…”

“Survivors…!” Ishtar gave a broken laugh, drawing back from Patty’s arms. “I can smell the smoke from here… Grannvale is in ruins, isn’t it…? Friege, Velthomer… Everyone, gone…”

Patty paused. There really wasn’t any way to sugar-coat the truth. Sooner or later, Ishtar would have to see for herself.

And Grannvale’s destruction cut close to her heart, too. It would’ve hurt her mother to see it like this.

“Yeah,” she said simply. “I’m sorry.”

Ishtar’s tears returned, her whole body shaking, and Patty let her cry into her shoulder.

Sometimes, even a few reassuring words weren’t enough to keep orphans from crying. There were some wounds that couldn’t be helped.

Patty stayed with Ishtar in silence until the sun sank all the way beneath the horizon, plunging the world back into darkness.

* * *

“I remember you, now,” Ishtar said. She huddled in front of the campfire, a bowl of Patty’s stew in her hands and a spare cloak slung around her shoulders. “You fought in the liberation army… alongside Lord Seliph and his friends. Isn’t that so?”

“Guilty as charged.” Patty wolfed down her supper, chewing as she spoke and more than making up for Ishtar’s lack of appetite. “Most of ‘em have gone home now, though.”

“Home… I see. And Tine – my cousin. She was in your army, too. Where is she now…?”

Patty looked down towards the ruins of Friege at the foot of the cliff. “Honestly, I dunno. Think she said she wanted to travel a bit with her brother; get to know the world she’d hardly seen. But after that… I guess she’ll come back here. Rule Friege… and do what she can to start rebuildin’ the place.”

“So, she’ll inherit the dukedom…” Ishtar’s spoon hung over the bowl, but she didn’t take a bite. “That’s good. She’s a kind girl. She’ll do our people proud…”

“Won’t be easy, mind you,” Patty said. “Reckon you’ll stick around to help her out?”

“Me?”

Ishtar sighed, then shook her head.

“My parents treated her so awfully. I did my best to be kind with her, but I… it wouldn’t be right. I’d rather she didn’t have me there as a reminder of those days. Grannvale… needs a new start.”

“Yeah, well… there’s something we can all agree on. And with Lord Seliph and my brother workin’ together, maybe they’ll be able to start helpin’ it heal.”

“Your brother?”

Patty nodded, hoping she didn’t look too proud. “Mhm – Febail. We’re descendants of Ulir, though we hardly knew it ‘til recently. That makes us nobility of Yngvi, now everything’s settled down again.”

“Nobility…?” Ishtar sat up straight, eyes sharpening with focus. “My apologies…! I-I hadn’t realised—”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Patty said, waving a hand. “You don’t need to go callin’ me ‘Lady’ Patty or whatever. Just Patty’s fine by me. I’m the same ol’ gal I’ve always been.”

“You don’t like your title?”

Patty shrugged. “Dunno, yet. Not had enough time with it. But I don’t think I’ll be stickin’ around much longer. My brother’s got things sorted here – and there’s folks back home who still need me.”

With one last spoonful, she finished off her stew, setting the bowl to one side. She stretched her arms out, burying her palms in the thin grass, and stared up at the night sky for a moment.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard an owl hooting, heard branches snag in the wind, heard the low, endless hum of insects chirping away. Every so often, she could even smell the old Grannvale: the pine trees and the earth.

Not a bad night, all things considered. Down the cliff, a few paces south, was a world of blood and horror – but up here, life tried to move on.

“Where are you gonna go, then?” Patty asked. “I mean – I can get not wantin’ to go back home. But a girl’s gotta go somewhere.”

Ishtar was silent, and Patty could hear her hesitation in the air.

“Me,” the thief went on, “I’m returnin’ to Conote. I’ve got an orphanage full of kids to be takin’ good care of. Febail wouldn’t want me to forget where we came from just ‘cause we got a sniff of the high life.” She looked back down, meeting Ishtar’s gaze. “Maybe you could come with, milady. If you’re feelin’ lost, or lonely – or heck, even guilty… well, there’s worse places to be.”

Ishtar blinked. “An orphanage…?”

“Sure! Not the fanciest place in the world, nor the cleanest. But we make do with ourselves; look out for each other, and the like. Plus, it _is_ just me and the matron for all twelve of ‘em, and she’s pretty poorly these days… so I won’t act like it wouldn’t be nice to have another pair of helpin’ hands, neither.”

For the first time that evening, Ishtar managed a smile. “Ah – your true intentions, I see. Very shrewd, Miss Patty.” Then, as quickly as it’d surfaced, the smile faded away. She stared into the campfire, light dancing across her face, and her eyes glistened again. “I don’t know. The Loptr Church demanded I do such awful things to children – taking them from their parents, locking them away… and worse. No – no, I couldn’t. I couldn’t put myself in a position of care. I haven’t the right.”

“Those ‘child hunts’, or whatever gross name they gave ‘em…?”

The mage folded her arms, drawing into herself. “Yes. Those disgusting rituals that I… that Lord Julius…”

“But you helped _save_ those kids, right? Some old geezer told Lord Seliph as much; I remember. You’d hid ‘em away in that monastery – somewhere down there, somewhere in Friege where I’ve forgotten. That’s not what a bad person would do, milady.”

“Felipe told your army…?” Ishtar’s eyes briefly widened, surprised; then she looked back down at her bowl, shaking her head and sighing. “That silly old man… He did most of the work. I tried to help, yes; to keep them from harm, but… oh, it hardly changed a thing in the end. For every child we saved, half a dozen more lost their lives. I should have done more – been firmer with Lord Julius…”

“You tried,” Patty said. “No use swimmin’ in regrets about what else you could’ve done. You said Grannvale needed a new start, yeah? Maybe we all do. And startin’ over – well, it’s about recognisin’ what you did right and wrong… and to keep on doin’ what was right.”

There was a long pause.

“You’re very wise for someone so young.” Ishtar’s voice was distant; even slightly jealous.

Patty snorted. “Young? You’re not that much older than me, milady. And I’m definitely no wiser. It’s… well, it’s common sense, isn’t it? Everybody messes up sometimes. But the only way to make it right again is to learn from what you did and carryin’ on. Otherwise, what’s the point in even tryin’?”

Ishtar’s expression still held grim – but there was a glimmer of understanding in it. A sort of quiet reflection that told Patty she might just have gotten through to her.

“Now,” Patty said, “I reckon you’d best eat up. That stuff tastes best when it’s pipin’ hot.”

“Yes… Yes, you’re right.” The mage took up the bowl in both hands and started to eat. As she chewed, her eyes lit up in a way that Patty found strangely endearing.

“It’s… delicious,” she said.

“Aw, shaddup.” Patty threw out a dismissive hand, but couldn’t keep a smile from forming – nor her cheeks from flushing a rosy shade of red.

* * *

“It’s quite alright; you’ve already done a lot for me, Patty. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“In the state you’re in?” Patty shook her head, gesturing to the lone bed in her tent. “Not gonna happen. I’ve spent nights sleepin’ on way worse than a comfy floor, you trust me.”

Ishtar’s brow furrowed. “You’re sure…? I don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not imposin’, milady. I’m glad to help.”

Patty settled down on the floor, pushing some cushions under her head, and smiled up at Ishtar.

“I’m gonna get some sleep now – but if you need anythin’, you just wake me up, alright?”

Still, Ishtar looked wordlessly at the bed. Still, Ishtar hesitated.

“Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked.

A pretty loaded question for bedtime. But Patty had her answer.

“Easy. It’s ‘cause someone’s gotta look out for the people like us. The ones who don’t quite fit in, or feel like there’s nothin’ else out there for them. The orphans.”

A pause – a brief one. Then, a soft smile.

“…Goodnight, Patty.”

“Night, milady.”

Patty watched Ishtar as she laid down on the bed, her silver hair spilling out across the pillow. Soon enough, her breathing evened out and deepened, and sleep overtook her again.

For a moment, Patty found herself staring at the mage’s features in the dark; tracing her slender nose, the curves of her jaw and chin, the colour of her lips.

Then, before she could think too hard on the meaning of it, she felt sleep take her as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, my forte -- angsty three-part smut.
> 
> but maybe, just maybe, there's a chance to let an fe4 fic have a happy ending this time.


	2. The People Right in Front of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After journeying with Patty to Conote, Ishtar comes to a decision.

When Patty set off the next morning for Conote, Ishtar insisted on joining her.

To the thief’s surprise, the older woman had been awake and ready long before dawn. In the early daylight, Ishtar told her, she’d been surveying the ruins of Grannvale from above, trying to make out the once-familiar landscape around Friege: the forests curled into embers, the villages working by themselves to rebuild, the battered and broken towers of Friege Castle.

She was torn, Patty noticed. One part of her felt compelled to stay; to help piece Friege back together, little by little, until Tine returned to take her rightful place. As a lady of House Friege, she had a duty to help her people when they needed her the most.

The other part of her wanted nothing more than to turn around and leave; to forget the years of violence and never look back. Her people had suffered for her blind loyalty to Julius. Anything she could have offered them only ran the risk of making things worse.

That was how, in her own words to Patty, she’d made up her mind. In the end, selfish as she’d admitted it to be, she had no desire to return to Friege. The duchy’s people, deep in recovery, would have held little patience for someone like her – a symbol of Julius’s regime, and of the war that had brought them so low. Tine, who had won their love and loyalty even throughout her years of hardship and abuse, should have been the one to lead them into a brighter tomorrow. Ishtar was more sure of that than anything else.

In turning her back on her duchy, of course, she had nowhere else to belong. And so, whether because she felt indebted to her rescuer or simply for lack of a better plan, she’d decided to follow Patty on the road.

Patty, for her part, was strangely glad for Ishtar’s presence. Sure, the woman had been her enemy once; and sure, it was a little unusual having someone she’d learned to fear the sight of on the battlefield as a travelling companion. But all the same, there was something comforting in her company. Her maturity and quiet grace belied a warmth that animated their conversations and moments of rest, and whenever the mage’s face lit up in a smile, or their elbows grazed, or their eyes met for a few seconds longer than usual, Patty’s heart beat just that little bit faster.

The joy of company, maybe. That was all. It was always nicer to travel with a friend, and after two weeks together—two weeks of sharing stories, sharing meals, even sharing shelter in the pouring rain—Patty found it hard to imagine making the journey to Conote without Ishtar at her side. Torn from her old loyalties and the burdens of war, the older woman was more like Tine than she might have realised.

The closer they drew to Conote, the more the landscape around them changed. The dense forests at the edges of Grannvale gave way to the softer plains and scattered woods of the Munster District, and from there, the road led through much more familiar territory for Patty. Boulders and rocks littered the ground; winding, shallow rivers snaked their way through the valley; and the air itself smelled more and more of home.

Home. Where was home, now? Conote, or Yngvi?

Since she’d been old enough to care for others, Patty had been inexorably drawn to duty. To an extent, taking up her rightful place in Yngvi—joining her brother, becoming a proper noble lady, all that complicated stuff—was a duty all of its own.

But she had responsibilities back here, too. The orphanage, the kids, making sure they were fed and clothed and happy. She couldn’t just abandon them. While Febail was taking care of Yngvi, she had to keep on looking after the ones who had no-one else.

For the last stretch of their journey, however, Ishtar had turned oddly quiet. She’d drawn into herself, grown reserved and anxious; and with every village they passed through, she’d made a habit of locking herself up in her lodgings for their entire stay. She avoided people, avoided speech, avoided eye contact, and avoided attention; and she wandered from place to place at Patty’s side like a ghost, keeping her hood up until the moment they were in the privacy of their room. Even meals couldn’t coax her out, and so Patty—not wanting to push Ishtar or make her uncomfortable—had taken to bringing food upstairs to her and sitting with her until it was late enough for bed.

“Thank you, Patty,” Ishtar managed one evening – a show of emotion that Patty was more than glad for after the past week of silence. “I… I’m sorry. It’s not right that you have to look after me like this.”

“Aw, it’s nothin’,” Patty said, handing Ishtar a bowl of soup. “It’s fine. You’re my friend, ain’tcha? I look after my friends.”

“I’m not,” Ishtar said, her voice catching in her throat. “You’ve been so kind to me, but I’m – I-I couldn’t be…”

She looked down, avoiding Patty’s gaze, and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, more steadily. “It’s this place. I was once here with Lord – that is… with _Julius_. That visit—that stay in Conote—brought such a terrible storm of events. It’s only that I’m here now that it’s… all coming back to me.”

Patty sat down on the bed beside her, the mattress yielding under her weight, and turned attentively towards her. “You wanna talk about it?”

Ishtar stared into her lap – then swallowed and nodded.

“Would you be willing to listen?” she asked. “I may ramble, but—”

“It’s okay,” Patty said. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

A smile, brief and distant. Then, she spoke.

“The truth is,” she said, “I haven’t a single decent memory of this place. First came the child hunts, which I could do so little to prevent… then Julius fell so gravely ill that I was sick to my stomach for days… then my father, forced back to Conote by the liberation army, lost his life. And I wasn’t there to help him.”

She pursed her lips, finally finding the strength to look at Patty.

“The battles waged here were the first time I’d come to blows with your army – with Tine, too, who I’d always tried to treat with kindness. And my father… my father, looking back, was hardly someone to admire; but if nothing else, he was as repulsed by the child hunts as I was… and he was still my father. In his time of need, he had entreated me to protect him. He put all his faith into me—even bestowed Mjölnir upon me—and it still wasn’t enough.”

Her eyes were shimmering now, but no tears fell. She only shook her head and tightened her grip around her dress.

“You seem fond of notions like duty, Patty. So perhaps you’ll understand what I’m saying. I had a duty to my father—a responsibility to protect him, no matter our differences—and I failed. I failed Julius in the end, yes, in more ways than one; failed my country; failed my people. But the failures I incurred in this country are just as painful. I failed my father – and when I saw Tine on the battlefield, fighting alongside you and yours rather than by my side… I realised how deeply I’d failed her, too.”

Patty’s hand found its way to Ishtar’s shoulder. Rather than recoiling, the mage reached up and covered Patty’s hand with her own.

“I get it,” Patty said. “So bein’ here is stirrin’ up bad memories.”

Ishtar’s lip quivered, and she closed her eyes. “More than bad memories.” She inhaled deeply. “Regrets.”

“We all got ‘em. But I think you’re bein’ too hard on yourself. You remember what I said in Grannvale – about regrets? You have to keep on movin’ and tryin’ to make the most of the future. That’s how I see it, anyway. And I’d bet all the gold in my pockets that Tine wouldn’t want you to be so down on yourself.”

Ishtar turned to face Patty, her eyes opening again. Her expression was blank for a moment – then broke into a faint smile.

“Tine… No, I suppose she wouldn’t.”

“You bet she wouldn’t!” Patty said, giving Ishtar a playful tap on the shoulder. “Now, finish that up; it’s late, and I’m tired. We got a long road ahead of us tomorrow.”

Ishtar nodded, picking up her spoon and stirring the soup in circles. “We’re almost there, aren’t we? Conote…”

“Mhm. It’ll be late by the time we get there, but I’ll introduce you to the kids. They’ll love you, Ishy.”

Ishtar’s smile bent at the edges. “Ishy?”

“Hehe. Yeah – Ishy. Don’t you like it? I think it’s pretty cute.”

“It… has its charm.”

“Right?” Patty’s hand moved from Ishtar’s shoulder to her face, pinching gently at her rosy cheek. “Ishy it is, then!”

The mage laughed softly, swatting her hand away. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Patty asked, flashing a mischievous grin. “This?”

She reached up again, pinching with just a little more force than last time. The pale skin beneath her fingers went red and warm, and her smile revealed her dimples.

“Stop – oh, you…” Ishtar said, giggling despite herself.

Giggling. After so many weeks of dour silence, her laughter was the sweetest sound to Patty’s ears.

Patty let go of her cheek, putting both of her hands to her sides. “Alright, I’ll behave. For now.”

Ishtar laughed once more, shaking her head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Never had anyone complain about that before,” Patty smirked.

“Is that so?” The mage took a spoonful of soup into her mouth, then glanced across at her. “I don’t recall saying it was a bad thing.”

* * *

After so many months away from home, the old orphanage nestled away in Conote’s residental district almost looked like a dream to Patty. She’d never imagined she’d miss it so much – but then again, she’d never imagined spending this much time away from it, either.

Really, though, it could have been any old place: a slum, a sty, or a palace. The way it looked—the old wooden walls, slightly damp with rot but still strong; the green tiled roof, ramshackle in its own charming way; the stone foundations, bearing the weight of so many decades—wasn’t important. What really mattered to Patty was what was inside.

And from the moment she cracked open the door, Ishtar loosely following behind, a delightfully familiar cacophony filled the air.

“I’ll race you!

“I’ll win again! I’m the fastest here!”

“Nuh-uh! You cheated!”

“Did not!”

All around them—up and down the stairs, across the main hall, from one room to another—the children raced through the orphanage, shrieking with laughter. In one corner, a group of girls danced and sang to an old Leonster nursery rhyme; in another, three boys were re-enacting a battle with toy soldiers and a hand-carved wooden castle. And off to the side of the hall, on the edge of dozing off, an elderly woman sat in a rocking chair: one eye shut, the other eye open, and a book lying idle in her hands.

“Patty!” one of the girls cried over the noise. “It’s Patty!”

The excitement all around them only increased as it suddenly rounded on the doorway; and in an instant Patty found herself surrounded by all twelve of the children, swarming her and grabbing at her and hugging her from the legs.

“Patty!” came another voice. “We missed you!”

“You’ve been gone a long time!”

“Did ya’ bring any presents?”

“Hey, hey – kids!” Patty laughed, kneeling down to meet them eye to eye. “Let a gal breathe, yeah? I missed you all too! And of course I brought presents! Who wants some treats?”

They all raised their hands, and their voices sounded out in a chorus of excitement. “I do, I do, I do!”

“Alright, alright! Youngest first – hey, Leena, back of the line! Didn’t think I’d go forgettin’ you’re thirteen this year, did you?”

One by one, Patty reached down into her bag and doled out handfuls of treats to each of the orphans. They were only hard candies she’d picked up a few towns back—rationing from the war was still taking its toll on the Munster District, even weeks after its end, and good sweets were hard to find—but they were enough to make them smile. A few minutes and several ruffles of hair later, the children scrambled away with their treats, thanking Patty loudly, and the commotion filled the halls again.

“Some for you too, Mrs Himme,” Patty said, handing the elderly matron a bag all of her own. “It’s good to be home.”

“And it’s good to _have_ you home,” Mrs Himme said, gently taking the bag from Patty with a trembling hand. “Thank you, my dear. And you’ve company, I see…?”

Ishtar, who Patty had almost forgotten in all the excitement, still hovered by the door, wrapped up in her brown cloak. Patty stepped back towards her, putting a tender arm around her shoulder, and urged her in.

“This is Ishy,” Patty said. “She’s a friend!”

A friend. Yeah – yeah, that sounded right. The woman smiled toothlessly, inclining her head to Ishtar; and Ishtar, swallowing nerves, returned the smile.

“A friend of Patty’s, mm? I do hope she’s not been a nuisance. The things she got up to as a little scamp – ha!”

“Not at all,” Ishtar replied. Her voice was soft, and Patty caught the flicker of a smile on her lips. “Patty’s been… well, she’s been very kind to me.”

Mrs. Himme laughed with more enthusiasm than Patty had come to expect from her.

“Ha! Then I daresay some old coffin-dodger raised her properly. Naga praise _that_ patient soul.” She plucked one of the sweets out of the bag, rolling it around in her mouth. “Mm. I say, those are quite good.”

“Mrs Himme,” Patty began, “I was wonderin’ – we _do_ still have a bit of space up in the attic, right…?”

The old woman’s eyes held on Ishtar for just a few moments more, as if fascinated by something – then she looked back to Patty and nodded.

* * *

As Patty pushed the door to the orphanage’s loft open, creaking with age, a cloud of dust kicked up and choked the air around her and Ishtar. Even the building was telling her that she’d been away for too long – and welcoming her home in its usual, ancient way.

“Well, here we are,” Patty said. “The place I grew up.”

She could hazard a guess that Ishtar, used to a life of luxury, had never seen a room like her’s before. It was a small space, cramped for two people, but she and her brother—while he’d still lived with her—had squeezed every inch out of it: a bunkbed, a dressing table, a bookshelf stacked high with colourful bindings, and as many decorations as they could get away. Gold and purple sheets hung haphazardly about the room wherever she or Febail had fancied, making it look more like the inside of a merchant’s tent than an ordinary bedroom.

But then, Patty had never really settled for ordinary.

“It’s… pretty,” Ishtar said, looking around with genuine interest. “And so unique. My room in Friege… hardly allowed for expression. My mother forbade such ‘frivolities’, as she called them… but this…”

“Nothin’ fancy, that’s for sure,” Patty said, though she couldn’t help but enjoy the way Ishtar walked around the room, eyes wide, as if every little thing in it was special. “But it’s a place to sleep. And it’s home. For me – and for you, for as long as you need.”

“You’re really willing to share…?”

Patty shrugged. “Shared a tent plenty of times, haven’t we? And shared inn rooms, as well. I mean, think of how it is for the kids down there – all heaped into a single hall every night. A private bedroom’s easy-peasy.”

Ishtar stopped. Her gaze briefly drew up to the window above them; the steam of light filtering down at an angle and revealing the dust in the air.

“I haven’t the first idea how to repay you, Patty,” she said. “You saved me from death, dressed my wounds, kept me company, and now…” She looked around – at the bed, at the colourful sheets, at the dresser. “Now, you’ve given me a place to stay, too. Can such generosity really come from simple obligation…?”

“Never much liked that word – ‘obligation’.” Patty clambered up into the top bunk of the bed, throwing her head back against the pillow and smiling up at the ceiling. “Obligation makes it sound like it’s something you don’t like doin’, you know? Like it’s a chore you roll your eyes at. But it’s not. Lookin’ out for someone, helpin’ them when they need it, givin’ them a place to belong while they figure themselves out – that’s just common decency, I reckon.”

She turned her head towards Ishtar, grinning in her usual way.

“And when it’s someone as lovely as you, Ishy? No skin off my back.”

For just a moment, she thought she saw the colour in Ishtar’s face deepen; then the mage turned away from her, staring at the bookshelves with sudden interest.

“T-these… ahem… these are all… picture books, aren’t they? Do you—”

“Read ‘em to the kids?” Patty hopped nimbly off the bed, moving to Ishtar’s side. “Sure do. These are all their favourites – you got ‘The Lion and the Rose’, ‘The Lady of Chalphy’… Aw, but that last one’s kinda sad. Never get through it without someone cryin’…”

“You get along well with them.” Ishtar’s eyes held on the spines, but her voice was further away. “The children. When you walked in, they were so delighted…”

“They’re good kids,” Patty said. “Though Mrs Himme puts in most of the work, mind. Only problem is, she’s hardly gettin’ any younger. So I do what I can to help. Play with ‘em, read to ‘em… Anything to ease the ol’ gal’s workload.”

She paused, letting her fingers play over the books. They brushed, almost accidentally, against Ishtar’s, and Patty felt a light sensation run through her – but neither of them drew away.

“That’s why I couldn’t go helpin’ my brother in Yngvi,” Patty murmured. “My whole life, I’ve known Mrs Himme was here for the kids. It’s why I could go and fight; why I knew they’d be safe and sound, even with everything goin’ on. But that’s not gonna last forever. If I were livin’ the high life up in Yngvi when she suddenly passed… the kids would all be split apart, spat back out into the world. And… there’s nothin’ fair about that. Bein’ all alone with no-one to help you.”

“You care about them a lot,” Ishtar said softly. “It’s… wonderful to see.”

“It’s only right. Isn’t it?”

Their fingers gently interlaced; a tender motion that felt so natural. Patty’s glove brushed against the back of Ishtar’s pale hand, and like a shared reflex, their grips tightened ever so slightly.

“To be honest,” Ishtar said, “when I look at them, it’s… it’s still difficult. My mind goes back to the child hunts, and to Julius’s orders, and… and to all the things the church demanded of me. And now I’m here again… I feel like a wolf wandering among sheep.”

She seemed so sad. Her purple lips curved downward; those long lashes trembled ever so slightly.

“Then, maybe…” Patty began, “maybe you could stay a while. Help out – get to know ‘em, get to talkin’ and readin’ and carin’ for ‘em. At the end of the day, most of these kids lost their folks to fightin’. You and I don’t have to be in a big fancy castle up in Grannvale, swimmin’ through politics and policies and all that nonsense, just to help the world heal. Sometimes, it’s about the people right in front of us. About puttin’ in a little work… and bein’ kind.”

Ishtar’s brow furrowed pensively. “Do you really think they’ll accept me?”

“Of course they will!” Patty grinned. “They’re kids! They don’t judge you for who you are, or where you’ve come from. They’re good like that.”

Patty had hardly realised that their hands were still linked; that they were being so intimate without thinking about it, or drawing attention to it. Ishtar’s skin was so pale and delicate, like the petal of a flower – and at the same time, by no means weak or fragile.

“Would you stay, too?” Ishtar asked. Her voice was hardly a whisper, but it seemed so loud in the silence.

“Sure. I’m not givin’ up on these kids. Not now, not ever.”

The hand around Patty’s squeezed. “I’m glad.”

“You’re, er… you’re stayin’, then?”

Ishtar’s lips found a smile again. “Yes. Yes, I think… perhaps it’s worth a try. If they’ll have me, I… I’d like to make a difference. Jugdral’s children are the ones who have suffered the most throughout all these years. They deserve the best we can offer them.”

Patty’s other hand rose up to Ishtar’s cheek, but she didn’t pinch it this time. Instead, she just let her thumb and fingers rest on her cheekbone, caressing it gently.

“That’s the best any of us can do,” she said. “One life at a time, little by little… it adds up. That’s how we make the world a better place. That’s how we put that stupid war behind us.”

Then—as if to reluctantly defuse the strange, wonderful intimacy brewing between them—Patty gave Ishtar a spirited tap on the cheek, and her fingers slipped away.

“C’mon. Let’s go introduce you properly.”

* * *

That Patty must have taken Mrs Himme for a codgery old fool. Oh, she was past her prime, alright; her skin sagged like old leather, her hair had gone a dull, mousy grey, and her frame was so gaunt that a strong gust of wind might have rushed her off her mortal coil. But she had eyes; eyes that weren't as sharp as they'd once been, certainly, and hadn't been for a long time – but they were eyes all the same.

Ishy. Or, by her actual name, Lady Ishtar of Friege.

It had been a long time. Long enough that Mrs Himme couldn’t recall the number of months, though certainly not so long that Ishtar would have forgotten her face. During Duke Bloom’s occupation of the city, when soldiers had swarmed the streets and Conote’s people had cowered in their homes, Ishtar had briefly visited the orphanage—out of breath, panic flashing in her eyes—and begged the matron to hide the children away before the Loptr Church could arrive.

It had been a perfectly timed warning. Patty’s room in the attic, small as it was, had been able to conceal all twelve of them; and the mage herself, in Mrs Himme’s presence, had lied to protect them, telling the priests that the orphanage had already been emptied.

She couldn’t understand why Ishtar had acted as she had back then, nor could she understand how she’d ended up in Patty’s company.

But Naga’s will, she supposed, often worked in unfathomable ways. And while Patty was still young, she’d never been a poor judge of character.


	3. Something Worth Living For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little help from Patty, Ishtar finally finds something she can cherish.

Four months, Patty thought. How had it already been four months?

Four months since she had returned to the orphanage; four months since Ishtar had made her decision to stay and look after the children with her; four months since the two of them had started living together, leaning about each other, sharing their lives together…

Four months, and she still couldn’t quite believe it.

Ishtar’s presence had transformed the place. Really, it had. Patty and Mrs Himme—and Febail, too, while he’d still been around—had always done their best to make sure the children’s lives were never gloomy; but Ishtar had approached her new role with such duty and devotion that she’d made it gleam. The children loved her, too. Patty would often come downstairs in the mornings to find them all huddled around her feet as she sat and read to them, or listened to them, or taught them songs from Friege with that wonderful voice of hers.

And most of all, she always had a smile on her face. It lit up the entire room, just like it lit up Patty’s heart. She was playful most of the time, strict towards the odd troublemaker without being scary – and always, always there when they needed her.

The first week or so had been rocky, certainly. Ishtar’s anxieties—memories of the child hunts, of the Loptr Church—had come flooding back, just as Patty had feared they might. She’d broken off conversations with the children without any apparent reason, sometimes mid-sentence; she’d hidden away in the loft for hours at a time, trembling and seemingly terrified by her own shadow; and once—just once—she’d woken Patty in the night, sweating and screaming from nightmares and insisting that they all had to leave immediately, or else the Church would catch them.

But through the long, bleak nights, Patty had sat patiently with her, holding her hand and reassuring her – telling her that the Church was gone, and that the war was over.

It had taken time. Even now, there were nights Patty heard Ishtar murmuring in her sleep, or caught her staring off into the distance with a frightened look. But on the whole, she seemed happy. She’d found a place where she could belong.

That was what mattered to Patty – that Ishtar was happy there. She’d learned to be comfortable around the children, and as she’d spent more and more time with them, her kindness had beaten back the trauma she’d harboured: all the awful memories of war, of death, of Loptous, of the child hunts.

It would have been wrong to say she’d ‘changed’. If all the stories Tine had told Patty about Ishtar were true, then the mage had always been kind at heart. Loyalty to her family and lord had come first, forcing her down a path of cruelty that she’d detested; but now that her chains were shattered, she was finally able to be herself.

No, she hadn’t changed. But in those four months, something else _had_ changed between her and Patty.

* * *

The first kiss happened by accident.

Ishtar, as had been common in those first few weeks, had been crying. In the dead of night, she sat on the edge of their bed’s bottom bunk with Patty at her side, hands clenched in her lap. Patty held her close, like she always did: a silent promise of safety. _I’m here_ , it said. _Everything’s going to be okay_.

At some point—Patty couldn’t remember when—Ishtar had pressed her face into her shoulder, drawing deeper into her embrace and leaning into her body in a desperate search for warmth and comfort. Patty had only meant to kiss her cheek, to whisper to her that she was safe.

But as she’d leaned in, Ishtar’s head had shifted ever so slightly, as if to look her in the eyes – and their lips had met.

And then, in the aftermath of their surprise, there had been a second kiss. Then a third. Then a fourth. Chaste, innocent kisses; short, sweet moments they were glad to share together.

They’d known, of course. They’d known for some time. But there was something nice about expressing it. Confirming it.

At last, the war was behind them.

* * *

Around the children, Patty and Ishtar were careful to keep their displays of affection to a minimum. They took up a sisterly sort of bond in public, cooking and shopping and cleaning together. Occasionally, they’d find themselves holding hands or linking arms, or stealing a quick kiss in the short periods of time no-one was watching; but they never shirked their responsibilities or let anything distract them from the orphans. Together, in their own, humble way, they were building a new future for Jugdral.

In the evenings, though, when Mrs Himme had long since hobbled back to the quiet of her room and the children had all been tucked in for the night, they could show their affection in a less restrained way.

“I’ve received a reply,” Ishtar said, holding an unsealed letter in her hands. The bottom bunk was hardly a fit for two, squashed up against the walls as it was, but Patty was lithe enough to curl up behind Ishtar all the same, content to share the warmth of their bodies.

“Really?” she asked, nuzzling into Ishtar’s shoulder and wrapping her arms around her. “Already? You only sent it out a couple of weeks ago…”

“Yes – and bearing the seal of House Friege. I’d expected it to be ignored, or dismissed as fraudulent, but…”

She folded open the letter again, casting her eyes down it.

“Tine herself,” Ishtar said, and Patty saw her smile in the loveliest way. “Her travels were only brief, in the end – she said she couldn’t bear to leave Friege to itself for any longer than she already had. I knew she’d make a fine duchess like that. And she’s so glad to hear I’m alive and safe… So glad, despite everything that happened between us. She’s even said I’m welcome to visit whenever I like…”

She looked down at the letter, and laughed quietly.

“I might never understand her. All those years under the thumb of someone like my mother, and she’s still so willing to forgive.”

“You got a good cousin, Ishy,” Patty said. “When we were fightin’ together, she never stopped talkin’ about you – how she just wanted the war to end so the two of you could be family again. And you were the one showin’ kindness to her all those years ago, right? Care breeds care, and all that. She’d never turn her back on you.”

Ishtar looked towards Patty, gently brushing noses with her.

“Yes,” she murmured, putting the letter to one side. “Naga knows what I’ve done to deserve it, but… I’m very blessed. With Tine… and with other people, too.”

Her slender fingers caressed the side of Patty’s cheek, while another hand ran through her hair, stroking the golden braid running down her back. The two of them leaned in, and their lips met.

It was a familiar feeling by now, and the two women slipped easily into it. The kiss was long, slow and deep; their mouths opened just enough for their tongues to touch and intertwine. Ishtar's hands slid down to Patty’s waist, while Patty’s arms came up to rest on her shoulders, one elbow bending slightly to play at her lover’s silver hair.

Lover. A word that sent such a thrill through Patty every time she thought it. For the longest time, she’d assumed she’d never be able to use it; had only found herself able to conjure it up in those brief, fanciful moments she’d spent at Prince Shannan’s side. She’d thought that her duty to the orphanage would have kept her from ever settling down and finding love.

Then she’d met Ishtar, and learned that duty to those who needed her could coexist with a duty to herself. A duty to her own happiness; to her own heart.

Ishtar’s tongue pressed more insistently against her own, and Patty accepted it eagerly.

* * *

Four months. It had taken them four months from the day they’d arrived in Conote and shared that first intimate moment together to get this far.

Today—a different day from Tine’s letter, but the days had blurred together so much in Patty’s mind that it hardly mattered—was the day they shared a bed for the first time.

Ishtar’s touch was gentle, careful. Her hands ran along Patty’s naked form, drifting from her shoulders down to her waist, then slowly back up to her chest, exploring every inch of her. Patty had let her hair down, forming a golden blanket at her back, while the silver of Ishtar’s own long hair cascaded loosely against her body, tickling her sensitive skin.

Patty loved the way Ishtar took in the sight of her; loved the way her eyes lingered on her body, as if trying to commit it to memory. But most of all, she loved how at peace Ishtar seemed. Years of war had come and gone, the memories threatening to resurface even now – but here in the darkness of the orphanage’s loft, where the Conote wind shook the high window and only a sliver of moonlight fell down through the clouds, there had never been a war at all.

They’d have to be quiet, of course. Downstairs, the children were asleep. But neither of them needed to be loud to show their affection.

Ishtar bent down, tenderly kissing the side of the other girl’s neck, and Patty felt her whole body shiver with excitement. It was one of her weak spots, and months of kissing had taught Ishtar just how to work her. The mage’s hands ran down her side, following the curve of her waist and the swell of her hip until they came to rest on her thighs.

Patty took a deep breath, feeling a sort of anxious happiness – but also something else. The slow, dull burn of arousal, hot and needy between her legs.

She caught Ishtar’s attention with a little gasp – and the sound must have said a dozen words, because her lover nodded, almost imperceptibly, and shifted around to lie beside her in the cramped confines of the lower bunk. Spooning her from behind, Ishtar’s fingers, so delicate, ran up along her inner thigh, and Patty brought one knee up slightly, stifling a moan as Ishtar’s hand pressed against the heat of her core.

“Like this…?” Ishtar whispered. An earnest question – a mark of their shared inexperience.

Patty nodded shyly. “Yeah… Like that…”

They could only go off what felt right. They could only act on what they wanted.

Ishtar slowly parted the lips of her lover’s mound, exposing her clit and her entrance to the cold air.

Oh, but Patty’s body knew exactly what it wanted. Ishtar knew it too, and she ran her fingers along the edge of that sacred spot, teasing the girl until her body was quivering in anticipation.

“You’re so wet,” Ishtar breathed, with the most genuine surprise.

“Guess you just have that kinda effect on a gal, Ishy…”

Ishtar laughed softly, and Patty could hear the smile on her lips. “I assure you, it’s entirely mutual.”

She let one finger slip just barely inside, and it was enough to cause an immediate reaction: a low moan, a tremor through Patty’s body, and a buck of the hips to try and force her deeper.

“More…?”

“Mhm…”

Gods, she felt so safe in Ishtar’s arms. Once, her presence on the battlefield had spelled only terror. But now, high up in a little orphanage in a forgotten city, her presence brought only care, and love, and warmth.

A second finger – and oh, it entered her slowly, so cautiously, as if making absolutely sure she were ready for it. Patty’s lips parted—both lips—and sighed at how smooth the skin on Ishtar’s fingers felt gliding into her.

“I-Ishy… N-now you’re gettin’ it…”

Now a third, stretching Patty open. Faster. Harder. Her breath quickened, and something like a heartbeat fluttered in her throat. Her light moans were music, and Ishtar was quickly learning to play every note, turning her voice into the most beautiful song.

And with it, she grew bolder. Patty felt her breath on her neck, then a hot tongue, then a nibble at her earlobe. The fingers pumped faster; and now a thumb was brushing against her clit with every thrust like a jolt of lightning to her body, a spark to fuel the inferno rising within her.

“Ishy… That’s…!”

Her hands tightened around the sheets, barely suppressing the urge to cry out. She wanted to give Ishtar the same pleasure, the same affection – but lying as she was, with her back against her lover’s chest and pressed against her lover’s hands, there wasn’t even a chance to reciprocate.

Ishtar, like Patty, had always been a woman of duty. She’d felt duty to her family, duty to Jugdral’s children – and now, duty to this girl. This girl, who could have left her for dead back in the fields of Grannvale… but had instead decided, out of no more than the kindness of her heart, to give Ishtar her life back.

Patty had given her enough pleasure to last a lifetime: the pleasure of a second chance. All Ishtar cared about, in that moment, was returning even a fraction of it to her.

And Patty could tell; could read her intentions to the letter. It felt good. It felt so good. There was a thrill, even, in having an older woman take care of her like this, in having someone know just how to touch her – in knowing that she could surrender all control and just let Ishtar take care of everything… 

The mage reached around to cup her palm against one of Patty’s breasts, squeezing gently and then rolling the girl’s hardening nipples between her fingers in perfect rhythm with her thrusts. Her tongue found Patty’s neck again, and – oh, attacking her weak spot at a time like this!

Just a little bit more. By Naga, she was close. She was so close.

“Ishy…” she murmured, managing to slowly turn her head. “C’mere…”

She turned to face her, and they shared one, long, slow kiss; tongues meeting, lips melting, eyes fluttering…

And then, like a bolt crashing down from Mjölnir, a thundering sensation ripped through her body, tearing her apart, and she was falling, falling, falling into bliss. She fell and fell until she needed to scream, and almost did so – but bit her lip just in time to protect the ears of the children downstairs. Her hips rocked once, twice. One release led to another, and another, and it was all Ishtar could do to hold her close as the feelings rushed through her until, one by one, they all slowly fell away.

Then, silence. There was the tickle of Ishtar’s breath on her neck, and the slow, steady beating of her heart.

“Thank you, Patty,” Ishtar whispered. “For everything.”

“It’s nothin’, Ishy. Really. I’m just glad it was you I found out there, all those months ago…”

Ishtar smiled. “And I’m glad you were the one who found me.”

Another kiss, for good measure.

* * *

A new morning rose on Jugdral, casting out the darkness and ushering in light. Somewhere in the distance, not too far from the orphanage, a family of birds picked up in song, basking in the golden light and the ever-gentle sway of the wind.

“You know,” Patty said, “that letter’s still sittin’ there. You reckon you’ll take Tine up on that visit?”

Ishtar, tying her hair up, blinked through the early light at the paper resting on the dresser.

“To Friege?” Her ponytail sprung up into place, and she started working on her clothes. “It’s very tempting – and Tine’s been so kind to me. But… for now, I think, it can wait. Just for a little while. I wouldn’t want to distract her while the duchy is in such a state. Perhaps in time, when the wounds of war have been healed and Friege’s people are happy under her rule…”

Patty shrugged, pulling on her boots. “Who knows? Maybe meetin’ with you now would be just what she needs to settle her anxieties. Hard work rebuildin’ a nation, if Febail’s letters are anything to go by – but they can’t spend _every_ wakin’ hour thinkin’ about it. In a way, really… she’s probably feelin’ a little lost and alone, too. An orphan of war. Just like the rest of us.”

“You might be right,” Ishtar said. “But Tine’s strong. I’ve seen it in her eyes – her strength, her dedication. Whenever I fought her, I could only think how she was everything I wanted to be. Like her mother, Lady Tailtiu, she wanted Friege to be more than a puppet to someone else’s will… while I was bound and made useless by something I mistook for loyalty.”

Downstairs, they heard the first children waking up; the pitter-patter of footsteps and the creaking of old floorboards.

“If Tine finds herself struggling,” she continued, smiling warmly, “then I’ll be there at a moment’s notice for her – to shoulder her burdens as you’ve shouldered mine, Patty. But until then, and even _after_ then… I’ve found a duty I can be proud of. Something, after all these terrible years, that’s worth living for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> actually i think i love these two now
> 
> also how on earth did i sneak a wholesome happy ending out of an fe4 fic??


End file.
